уильям шекспир - King Lear

OLD MAN ’Tis poor mad Tom.

Aside

EDGAR And worse I may be yet: the worst is not 31

So long as we can say ‘This is the worst.’

OLD MAN Fellow, where goest?

GLOUCESTER Is it a beggar-man?

OLD MAN Madman and beggar too.

GLOUCESTER He has some reason 36, else he could not beg.

I’th’last night’s storm I such a fellow saw,

Which made me think a man a worm: my son

Came then into my mind and yet my mind

Was then scarce friends with him. I have heard more since.

As flies to wanton 41boys are we to th’gods:

They kill us for their sport.

Aside

EDGAR How should this be?

Bad is the trade 44that must play fool to sorrow,

Ang’ring itself and others.— Bless thee, master!

GLOUCESTER Is that the naked fellow?

OLD MAN Ay, my lord.

GLOUCESTER Get thee away: if for my sake

Thou wilt o’ertake us hence a mile or twain

I’th’way toward Dover, do it for ancient love 50,

And bring some covering for this naked soul,

Which I’ll entreat to lead me.

OLD MAN Alack, sir, he is mad.

GLOUCESTER ’Tis the time’s plague 54, when madmen lead the blind.

Do as I bid thee, or rather do thy pleasure:

Above the rest 56, be gone.

OLD MAN I’ll bring him the best ’pparel 57that I have,

Come on’t what will 58.

Exit

GLOUCESTER Sirrah, naked fellow—

Aside

EDGAR Poor Tom’s a-cold.— I cannot daub it 60further.

GLOUCESTER Come hither, fellow.

Aside

EDGAR And yet I must.— Bless thy sweet eyes, they bleed.

GLOUCESTER Know’st thou the way to Dover?

EDGAR Both stile and gate, horseway and footpath. Poor

Tom hath been scared out of his good wits: bless thee, good

man’s son, from the foul fiend!

GLOUCESTER Here, take this purse, thou whom the heav’ns’ plagues

Gives a purse

Have humbled to all strokes 68: that I am wretched

Makes thee the happier 69: heavens, deal so still.

Let the superfluous and lust-dieted 70man,

That slaves your ordinance 71, that will not see

Because he does not feel, feel your pow’r quickly 72,

So distribution should undo excess,

And each man have enough. Dost thou know Dover?

EDGAR Ay, master.

GLOUCESTER There is a cliff, whose high and bending 76head

Looks fearfully in the confinèd 77deep:

Bring me but to the very brim 78of it

And I’ll repair the misery thou dost bear

With something rich about me 80: from that place

I shall no leading need.

EDGAR Give me thy arm:

Poor Tom shall lead thee.

Exeunt

Act 4 Scene 2

running scene 13

Enter Goneril, Bastard [Edmund] and Steward [Oswald]

GONERIL Welcome, my lord 1: I marvel our mild husband

Not met us on the way.— Now, where’s your master?

OSWALD Madam, within, but never man so changed.

I told him of the army 4that was landed,

He smiled at it: I told him you were coming,

His answer was ‘The worse’: of Gloucester’s treachery

And of the loyal service of his son

When I informed him, then he called me ‘sot’ 8

And told me I had turned the wrong side out 9.

What most he should dislike seems pleasant to him;

What like, offensive.

To Edmund

GONERIL Then shall you go no further.

It is the cowish 13terror of his spirit,

That dares not undertake 14: he’ll not feel wrongs

Which tie him to an answer. Our wishes on the way 15

May prove effects. Back, Edmund, to my brother 16:

Hasten his musters and conduct his powers 17.

I must change names at home and give the distaff 18

Into my husband’s hands. This trusty servant

Shall pass between us: ere long you are like 20to hear —

If you dare venture in your own behalf —

A mistress’s 22command. Wear this; spare speech.

Gives a favor

Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak,

Kisses him

Would stretch thy spirits 24up into the air.

Conceive 25, and fare thee well.

EDMUND Yours in the ranks of death 26.

Exit

GONERIL My most dear Gloucester!

O, the difference of man and man!

To thee a woman’s services 29are due:

My fool usurps 30my body.

OSWALD Madam, here comes my lord.

Exit

Enter Albany

GONERIL I have been worth the whistle 32.

ALBANY O Goneril, 33

You are not worth the dust which the rude 34wind

Blows in your face.

GONERIL Milk-livered 36man,

That bear’st a cheek for blows, a head for wrongs,

Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning 38

Thine honour from thy suffering.

ALBANY See thyself, devil!

Proper deformity seems not in the fiend 41

So horrid as in woman.

GONERIL O vain 43fool!

Enter a Messenger

MESSENGER O, my good lord, the Duke of Cornwall’s dead,

Slain by his servant, going to put out

The other eye of Gloucester.

ALBANY Gloucester’s eyes?

MESSENGER A servant that he bred, thrilled with remorse 48,

Opposed against the act, bending 49his sword

To his great master, who, threat-enraged 50,

Flew on him and amongst them felled him dead,

But not without that harmful stroke which since

Hath plucked him after 53.

ALBANY This shows you are above,

You justices, that these our nether 55crimes

So speedily can venge 56. But, O, poor Gloucester!

Lost he his other eye?

MESSENGER Both, both, my lord.—

Gives a letter

This letter, madam, craves a speedy answer:

’Tis from your sister.

Aside

GONERIL One way I like this well:

But being widow, and my Gloucester with her,

May all the building in my fancy pluck 63

Upon my hateful life: another way,

The news is not so tart 65.— I’ll read, and answer.

[ Exit ]

ALBANY Where was his son when they did take his eyes?

MESSENGER Come with my lady hither.

ALBANY He is not here.

MESSENGER No, my good lord, I met him back 69again.

ALBANY Knows he the wickedness?

MESSENGER Ay, my good lord: ’twas he informed against him,

And quit the house on purpose that their punishment

Might have the freer course.

ALBANY Gloucester, I live

To thank thee for the love thou showed’st the king

And to revenge thine eyes.— Come hither, friend:

Tell me what more thou know’st.

Exeunt

Act 4 Scene 3

running scene 14

Enter with Drum and Colours Cordelia, Gentleman and Soldiers

CORDELIA Alack, ’tis he: why, he was met even now

As mad as the vexed 2sea, singing aloud,

Crowned with rank fumiter and furrow weeds 3,

With burdocks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers 4,

Darnel, and all the idle 5weeds that grow

In our sustaining corn. A sentry send forth;

Search every acre in the high-grown field

And bring him to our eye.—

[Exit a Soldier]

What can man’s wisdom 8

In the restoring his bereavèd 9sense?

He that helps him take all my outward worth 10.

GENTLEMAN There is means, madam:

Our foster-nurse of nature is repose 12,

The which he lacks: that to provoke in him 13

Are many simples operative, whose power

Will close the eye of anguish.

CORDELIA All blest secrets,

All you unpublished virtues 17of the earth,

Spring with my tears! Be aidant and remediate 18

In the good man’s distress! Seek, seek for him,

Lest his ungoverned rage 20dissolve the life